


you've got a crime, we've got the time

by thenewradical



Category: The Dalemark Quartet - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Detectives, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:15:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenewradical/pseuds/thenewradical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Maewen and Mitt work at a detective agency, Navis is their boss, and Moril is the roommate who's in a band.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've got a crime, we've got the time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elviella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elviella/gifts).



Becoming a detective wasn’t the best use of her arts degree, Maewen told people. But it was a paying job, which was all that really mattered.

And she took a lot of pictures. So it was like she was using her degree.

At the moment, she was taking pictures of men entering a tech company late at night. Their client was another company who knew their rival was working on something big and wanted to know which engineers were involved.

“Corporate espionage is the most boring espionage,” Mitt grumbled from the driver’s seat. “Are we done?”

Maewen flipped through the pictures – everyone in frame, nothing too blurry. “We’re good.”

Mitt put the car into gear and drove them into the darkness.

* * *

The detective agency – and that’s really what it was called, The Detective Agency – was owned by Navis Haddsson. He also owned about a third of the other businesses in the city, but Maewen liked to think that the detective agency was his favorite. He certainly hung around a lot.

“The pictures could be a lot better.”

And he was so pleasant whenever he was there.

“The client won’t be happy,” Navis continued. He was giving her that serious look that made her want to fall through the earth and die.

“Can’t take good pictures without a good camera,” Mitt said without looking away from his computer.

She’d been working with them for a year, but Maewen still didn’t totally understand their relationship. She knew it was long and that there was some nasty history between Mitt and Navis’s daughter, but they were close all the same.

Navis raised an eyebrow at the both of them. “We have a new client coming in at four,” was all he said, and marched back to his office.

Maewen assumed that was the end of it, but the next day there was a new, top-of-the-line camera on her desk.

* * *

The work was the usual detective agency stuff: cheating spouses, finding blackmailers, all typical to Maewen now.

Sometimes they worked as consultants with the police. Maewen liked those cases and the sheen of order it gave her life. She also liked Kialan, the detective they worked with.

Before they met, Maewen assumed he was a lightweight; his father was a police captain and Maewen naturally attributed Kialan’s rise in the ranks to nepotism. But Mitt, who was always the first to rail against privilege and unfair advantages, insisted that wasn’t the case. “Kialan’s good police,” he told Maewen, and he was right.

Their visit to the station that day was in an unofficial capacity. Their new client, Eltruda Stair, wanted them to find her missing niece, Noreth. The police wouldn’t take the case, she told them in their meeting. Apparently there wasn’t proper cause for Noreth to be considered a missing person.

Whenever a client told them that the police wouldn’t get involved, Kialan was always Mitt’s first stop. “Might as well get the inside scoop,” Mitt would say.

“Here’s what I found out,” Kialan said, walking them to a park across from the station. “She’s been missing three days. A couple of officers went to her flat; it was locked and when the landlord let them in, they didn’t see any signs of a struggle.”

“Is that why you didn’t take the case,” Maewen asked.

Kialan shook his head. “Not just that. She’s well-liked, no enemies. Single, so no husband or boyfriend to automatically suspect. But she had mentioned to some coworkers that she was thinking of leaving town and seeing the world. Honestly,” Kialan sighed, “I would have made the same call not to investigate. It’s weird that she didn’t tell anyone she was leaving, but more likely she was bored with her life and wanted a clean break.”

“That’s probably all it is,” Mitt said. “Thanks, though. We owe you one.”

“Maybe you could set me up with that new receptionist,” Kialan suggested. “What’s her name, Brid?”

Maewen rolled her eyes and Mitt told him “She’s only here for the summer while she’s on break, and she’s my best friend’s sister, so watch your step.”

When they walked back to the car, Maewen asked “Do you really think it’s a nothing case?”

Mitt shrugged. “Could be. She doesn’t sound like someone a person could want to kidnap. But,” he conceded, “Who knows what some digging will turn up."

* * *

On the surface, Noreth was clean as a whistle. No arrests, never been in court, always paid her taxes. She worked at a horse barn just outside of town where she gave horseback riding lessons to kids. Maewen drove out there and her coworkers confirmed that Noreth had mentioned wanting to get out of Abareth. One added that Noreth had disappeared before and come back a week later, tanned from a trip to the Holy Isles. It looked like the police were right.

But there was one crack in the surface.

“This could be something,” Maewen murmured, staring into the computer. It was their second day on the case, and she had started to get into Noreth’s online life. “Going back two months there are posts about an ‘M.M.’ ‘I always love movie nights with M.M.’ ‘Dinner at Libby Bistro with M.M.’ that sort of thing. I assumed it was a friend, but someone posted ‘When are we going to meet your Mystery Man?’” Maewen made sure to say it _mysteriously_.

Mitt looked suitably impressed. “And what did Noreth say?”

“’Turns out you won’t,’” Maewen read. “’It’s over.’ The friend who asked said she was sorry, but Noreth didn’t go into any details, or at least not publicly.”

Mitt leaned back in his chair. “If it wasn’t serious, then her aunt wouldn’t have known about it, and it would explain why she said Noreth was single. And her friends who said the same probably think it’s a fling that fizzled out.”

“But it can’t just be that,” Maewen said. “Why else the code name?” She thought for a moment. “It could be someone she met at work. They probably have rules against dating clients.”

“Probably a lot of single dads come through, taking their kids to lessons. And not-so-single dads,” Mitt added darkly.

* * *

At Navis’s suggestion, Maewen went back to the stables. “To pick up gossip,” he had said, which was annoyingly helpful advice. Especially since she came back with two leads.

“First off is Tan Jones,” she told Mitt. “He’s a sort of handyman who lives on the grounds and is around a lot. He’s been known to get attached to the employees. Nothing outrageous enough to get him fired, but everyone seemed a little creeped out by him. Probably a long shot, but worth looking in to.”

“Second is Al Kerns,” she continued. “His sons take lessons from Noreth. He tends to hang out during the lessons instead of just dropping them off and picking them up. And two of Noreth’s coworkers mentioned that there was definitely some sort of flirtation going on that stopped abruptly last month.”

Mitt sat up at that. “That’s huge. Why didn’t they tell that to the police when they came round?”

Maewen shook her head at him. “I grew up around horse people, remember? I can speak their language.”

She was proud of having come up with suspects, but all it led to in the meantime was more stakeouts. First order of business was Kerns, and Maewen stopped by Mitt’s flat to pick him up on the way. She was so busy checking to make sure she had everything she needed that she was startled to look up at the opening door and see Moril standing there.

Or rather, she assumed it was Moril. She’d never actually met him before. “Hi,” she said cautiously. “Is Mitt here?”

Moril – and that had to be him – mumbled back a hello and said “Mitt’s just getting out of the shower.” Then he picked up a guitar and plopped onto the couch.

Maewen used her well-honed detective skill of snooping without being obvious to look around the flat. Maewen had always assumed it would be grungy, especially since musicians were by reputation messy, but it was surprisingly orderly, save for the instruments everywhere.

Maewen stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching Moril pluck the guitar. “Brid’s really nice,” she offered and got silence in return.

Thankfully Mitt came in not two seconds later, hair still a little wet. “Be nice,” he said to Moril, and then turned to smile at her. “Grab dinner on the way?”

Later, over Chinese, she said “Moril’s not very talkative, is he?”

“Well, you have to get to know him to really get him to open up.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Ten years. Oh – there’s our guy. Camera at the ready.”

* * *

Whenever her parents expressed worry over her chosen career, Maewen insisted to them that it was safe. “It’s mostly a lot of sitting at my computer doing research,” she’d assure them.

But sometimes clients showed up at the office angry. Sometimes a mark was more observant than they thought and turned up at the car to yell at them. But nothing actually _dangerous_.

And then Maewen got knocked unconscious and woke up somewhere that she suspected was her own trunk.

Maewen tried to get her bearings, which was hard since it was pitch-black dark. She had run by the grocery store just before it closed, and she must not had been paying attention to her surroundings, which was stupid. Navis was going to be furious.

A pat-down of her pockets revealed that she still had her phone, and a quick wave of its lighted screen confirmed that yes, she was locked in the trunk of her car. There was just enough reception on her phone to get a call out, and there was really only one person she could call.

“Hi, Mitt. Remember when Navis put that tracking software on our phones and we thought it was really creepy? Well, you’re going to have to turn that on.”

She was only in there for about fifteen minutes, but time moves very slowly when you’re locked in a trunk. Maewen had a lot of time to catalog her injuries (her head hurt where she was hit and her ankle felt like it may be sprained) and to be very freaked out.

When she heard a car pull up and footsteps outside, she reassured herself that it was definitely Mitt and not whoever did this to her coming back to finish the job.

The trunk popped open and yes, it was Mitt standing there. “The keys were left on the seat,” he explained as he helped her clamber out of the trunk. Then he took her by the shoulders and looked at her closely. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

She shook her head. “Nothing major. I think he just wanted to scare me.” She paused for a moment and willed herself not to cry when she said “It worked.”

Mitt pulled her into a hug, which Maewen gratefully fell into. It took being locked in a trunk to realize how much she liked being around people, and Mitt was so warm and holding her so tightly. It wasn’t until she reluctantly broke away that she saw Moril, standing by a car. “Hello,” he said and then added “Glad you’re okay.”

“I figured you probably shouldn’t drive yourself home, so I hitched a ride,” Mitt explained.  

But on the way home, Mitt pulled over when they reached the detective agency. Maewen didn’t need to ask why: Navis was standing outside.

Unlike Mitt, he did not hug her or inquire as to her safety. He just looked her up and down and said “Tomorrow, you are buying a knife, or a gun, or a wire to garrote someone. I don’t care what you get, but you need to arm yourself.”

He turned to leave, but stopped and looked back at both of them. “And close this Noreth case. I don’t like how dangerous it’s getting.”

* * *

Early the next morning, Maewen laid out what she learned from her attack.

“If we think it has something to do with Noreth’s disappearance-“ she paused to give Mitt the opportunity to disagree, but he stayed silent. “Then I think it has to be Kerns.”

“Did you see him?”

“Well, no,” Maewen admitted. “But I smelled him.”

Mitt looked at her skeptically. “I didn’t realize he had a particular smell.”

“It wasn’t that. It was the lack of smell.” Maewen explained, “Look, I helped out my aunt at her barn all the time. After just a few hours in there I smelled like hay and manure. Tan practically lives in the stables; if he was the one to attack me, I would have been able to smell him coming.”

“I’d hate to get rid of a suspect on that sort of evidence,” Mitt said and Maewen rolled her eyes at him, “but it’s something to go on.”

“There’s another thing. Have you ever actually seen Kerns at the stables?”

Mitt thought for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

“I know so,” Maewen brought out her log from her surveillance. “It’s always the wife who brings the kids to lessons now, and before Noreth disappeared it always used to be him who stayed during the lessons. I think he’s avoiding that place for a reason.”

It was the weakest hunch she’d ever had, but much like Navis, she wanted to put an end to this case. And something kept pulling her back to those stables.

When she arrived it was blisteringly cold out, and early enough that no one was around except for the owner’s dog, who happily followed Maewen around as she canvassed the stalls.

“Some guard dog you are,” she mumbled. Maewen wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for – a signed and notarized letter from Noreth declaring her intention to move to a tropical beach would be nice – but nothing so convenient turned up. It was mostly just stalls, each with a sleeping horse inside.

All except one: the horse in the second to last stall was restless, rearing its head and softly whinnying. Maewen went over and rubbed its side, but it didn’t calm down. She assumed that it had been spooked by a mouse, but then she noticed that the dog hadn’t followed her. It was a few stalls away, sitting down and refusing to move when she softly called for it. When she went to the last stall, it started barking.

Maewen turned to look inside: it was empty, except for a pile of hay. A very large pile of hay and scuff marks on the floor that didn’t look like they came from a horse. With a sick feeling in her stomach, Maewen kneeled beside the hay and started to move it.

She was not surprised when she found a very cold hand, slightly splattered with blood.

* * *

Once there was a body, it officially became a police investigation. Maewen was more than happy to turn over her notes and let them finish the work. Kialan called to tell them that Kerns had been brought in for questioning and while he hadn’t confessed, he had no alibi for the night Maewen was attacked or Noreth’s estimated time of death.

“Cheating husband, wife about to find out, pissed off ex-girlfriend,” Kialan said. “It’s not a new story.”

She and Mitt were brought in as consultants after the fact, which meant a nice police paycheck. But Maewen had a feeling that had nothing to do with Navis refusing to accept payment from Eltruda when she came to their office after the body was found.

For her first murder case, it had all wrapped up very nicely. But Maewen didn’t feel very accomplished.

“Why do you think he attacked me?”

She and Mitt were sitting on her desk. Most of the lights were off and they were sharing the whiskey that Maewen kept in her desk (it had never been opened before this night; she kept it there because it felt authentic).

Mitt answered “He must have figured out that we suspected him of something and well, once you’ve killed someone, what’s a little assault? Especially if you think it’ll scare off anyone who suspects you.”

“That’s not very smart.”

“Never said it was.”

Maewen was silent, looking at her glass instead of at Mitt. “I wish I’d known her,” she said finally. “I mean, more than the basic facts we had to find her. I wish I’d known who she was before she became a mystery.”

“I think those are the only sort we get to meet in this line of work,” Mitt sighed. And then he said in a louder voice, trying to brighten the room, “Moril’s band is playing a set at a bar a few blocks down. Want to go?”

“Yeah,” Maewen said, “but can we stay here a little while longer?” She didn’t wait for an answer and scooted closer to Mitt, resting her head on his shoulder.

Maewen was sure that this was a bad idea and not proper coworker behavior. But Mitt took her hand and pulled her closer, and she didn’t particularly care.

Because no matter how sad she was now, Maewen couldn’t wait for the next case.


End file.
